Gaurav's morning routine was quiet and smooth. He washed up, ate his breakfast without much thought, and stepped outside just as the sun began to climb higher into the sky. That's when he saw Harish standing near the gate, hands in his pockets, eyes locked on Gaurav's mother with an expression Gaurav knew too well — hunger.
Bulbal wasn't looking at him. She was adjusting her dupatta in the mirror of her scooter helmet, dressed simply in a light salwar kameez — modest compared to what some women wore around here.
But Harish stared anyway.
And then Gaurav noticed *her* — Harish's mother.
Even from across the street, she turned heads. Tall, with sharp features and long dark hair that fell like silk down her back. She always dressed in tight jeans and fitted tops — western style only — hugging curves that looked like they belonged on magazine covers instead of suburban lanes. Rumor had it she used to be a model before marriage faded her spotlight into domestic life.
Today she wore a cream blouse unbuttoned just low enough to hint at what lay beneath and black pants that hugged every inch of her shape as she leaned against their car talking softly on the phone.
There was something about how confidently she carried herself… different from other mothers who walked around covered head-to-toe whispering behind scarves.
She owned attention without asking for it.
And now—Gaurav realized—he wasn't immune either.
A small heat stirred inside him as he watched her laugh lightly into the phone one hand brushing stray hair behind ear movements elegant almost teasing even when not trying
He blinked slowly dragging gaze away guilt nudging corners but disappearing fast under growing awareness new power pulsing beneath skin system resting quiet waiting command
Then came the bus horn—sharp loud familiar sound pulling focus back reality moving forward again
With one last glance over shoulder—not at his mom or hers—but inward smile forming knowing things changed cannot go backward now
He stepped onto school bus already
Gaurav stepped onto the school bus and scanned the rows. Most seats were taken, but one remained — right in the middle, beside *her*.
Maria Sen.
Seventeen, tall for a girl her age, with sun-kissed skin and soft brown curls tied halfway with a red ribbon. She wore the senior uniform perfectly — white shirt tucked in neatly, navy blazer open just enough to show confidence without effort. Her eyes were sharp behind thin glasses as she read *The Great Gatsby*, lips slightly parted like she was tasting each sentence before swallowing it whole.
"Mind if I sit here?" Gaurav asked quietly.
She looked up briefly — just a flicker of hazel beneath thick lashes — then nodded without speaking. No smile. No frown either. Just space made for him to slip into place beside her as the bus rumbled forward through morning traffic.
He could smell faint vanilla on her skin mixed with pages of old books.
She didn't look at him again.
But he watched how her fingers curled around the book edge when he shifted too close while turning toward window view moving past blurred buildings trees people walking dogs kids chasing buses lives unfolding outside bubble silence surrounded them two strangers breathing same air tension low hum current barely there maybe only real inside his head or perhaps not
After forty minutes, they reached Shanti Public School — concrete walls painted blue and white standing wide against dusty lanes full of bikes scooters rickshaws parents waving students laughing groups forming dissolving repeating patterns every day
Gaurav got off slowly letting flow carry feet down steps pavement firm under shoes sky clear promise hot day ahead
He walked into main block building headed straight for Class **9[A]**
This wasn't any ordinary class.
Only thirty students from across sixteen hundred ninth graders made it here—rank holders batch toppers selected by IQ performance teacher recommendation silent reputation earned over years proving consistency brilliance quiet dominance
Twenty-three girls.
Seven boys.
Elite tier academic fortress battleground where knowledge fought pride logic battled ego questions thrown answers returned faster than bullets fired mid-thought war minds invisible yet deadly
Harish wasn't there yet.
And so Gaurav slid into his usual seat near front center row where sunlight poured gently between bars windowsill warming wooden desk beneath palms
A second later—
"Hi," came a softly voice
Ishika, Gaurav's girlfriend, was waiting for him. They often met after class to walk home together. She gave a small wave, her cheerful expression a contrast to his pensive silence.
"Hey, Ishika," Gaurav replied, the usual warmth of their casual conversations replaced by a hint of restraint.
"You seem quiet today," she remarked, her brow furrowning slightly as if noticing the change in his demeanor.
"Just thinking," he said with a faint smile, brushing her concern aside.
They walked side by side, books in hand, the school noise fading behind them. Ishika chatted about the upcoming test, her voice light and steady. Gaurav nodded along, but his mind was elsewhere — on Maria's quiet presence, on Harish's hungry eyes this morning… and on the soft hum of power still lingering beneath his skin.
The System hadn't spoken since morning.
But he could feel it waiting.